charlie
Charlie arrives like a comet, all golden hair and bare feet, skin kissed by salt and wind and the memory of dragonflight. Her dress is more suggestion than garment, a slinky, shimmering thing that rides the edge of decency and seems to laugh about it. There’s still a trace of the sky in her; cheeks flushed from altitude, curls wild, the ghost of Kaisel’s grin pressed into the curve of her mouth. The kiss she’d dropped on his cheek a few minutes ago still tastes faintly of mischief.
She darts! onto the counter with the kind of effortlessness that says she’s done it a hundred times before, if only because the world was not necessarily made for those of her height. "Double whiskey, with marachino cherries!" she chirps, voice bright enough to cut through the bass rolling through the bar. The bartender doesn’t even blink—Torchline’s seen weirder than an ancient wanting a drink—and that’s when she notices Soh.
The other woman looks like temptation dipped in rebellion, all dark leather and smudged eyeliner, the kind of outfit that screams I’m done being good. Charlie, of course, loves that for her. Without asking, she leans over and catches one of Sohalia’s wild curls, twirling it around her finger with a delighted hum before flicking it back into place, perfectly coiled.
"Faaaaaaab," she purrs, drawing the word out like it’s honey. A grin flashes across her red lips, bright, fanged, utterly unselfconscious. "Seriously, babe, you look like sin just got promoted."
Her tail flicks in rhythm with the music as the bartender slides her drink across the counter. Charlie catches it one-handed, eyebrows bouncing in a gesture halfway between flirtation and approval. "I’m Charlie," she adds, tipping her glass toward Soh in a toast that glitters as much as her grin. "Please tell me you’re about to do something terribly fun."
She darts! onto the counter with the kind of effortlessness that says she’s done it a hundred times before, if only because the world was not necessarily made for those of her height. "Double whiskey, with marachino cherries!" she chirps, voice bright enough to cut through the bass rolling through the bar. The bartender doesn’t even blink—Torchline’s seen weirder than an ancient wanting a drink—and that’s when she notices Soh.
The other woman looks like temptation dipped in rebellion, all dark leather and smudged eyeliner, the kind of outfit that screams I’m done being good. Charlie, of course, loves that for her. Without asking, she leans over and catches one of Sohalia’s wild curls, twirling it around her finger with a delighted hum before flicking it back into place, perfectly coiled.
"Faaaaaaab," she purrs, drawing the word out like it’s honey. A grin flashes across her red lips, bright, fanged, utterly unselfconscious. "Seriously, babe, you look like sin just got promoted."
Her tail flicks in rhythm with the music as the bartender slides her drink across the counter. Charlie catches it one-handed, eyebrows bouncing in a gesture halfway between flirtation and approval. "I’m Charlie," she adds, tipping her glass toward Soh in a toast that glitters as much as her grin. "Please tell me you’re about to do something terribly fun."
I did a double take, triple take
Take me to naked Twister back at your place
Take me to naked Twister back at your place
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
